


Surrogate

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: Love Them, Sooth Them [4]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asides of 'mentoring' the Jettwins, Sentinel Prime has a 'special duty' to fulfill toward them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrogate

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, another old fic I had never posted. X_X
> 
> In this case, it was because I had planned to write more stories in this verse, and this one was supposed to be chronogically placed later. However, I kind of dropped the series and well, I forgot about this one.
> 
> Enjoy the reading. <3

Sometimes, Sentinel mused, he really hated the two nuisances under his command. Except, not really. Because they, kinda, looked up to him and admired him and worshipped him and stroked his ego.

Having Jetstorm and Jetfire trail after him, chatting up excitedly and asking him again and again to tell them of his exploits was soothing him like few things could nowadays. It gave Sentinel a taste of what things would most likely be like once he managed to get the Magnus position, even if it was still far off his reach as of yet.

Little by little, they had started to carve themselves a place in his processor and spark, albeit a small one (or so he pretended). When you look over a couple of ‘bots since their onlining, you tend to do that, no matter how much you want to stay cool and professional with them.

Too bad the Twins didn’t get the memo.

It always came as a shock to hear the Twins, when they thought they were alone, refer to him as some sort of surrogate creator. Which he was. In a way. Perhaps. If you squinted hard. Technically, the Twins weren’t sparklings, but they hadn’t been exactly mature either before their spark-transplant, and said transplant had definitely wiped away some of their memory files, making them perhaps a tad more immature than before. So, in theory, they weren’t sparklings, but they sure weren’t full-sparked adults either.

Sentinel didn’t fancy himself a creator. If he ever had a creation of his own, and not simply a protégé he was mentoring, then it would be in a very, very long time, like, when he would be as old as Alpha Trion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a little one to raise as he saw fit, no. Simply, he was bonded to his job. Creating and raising a newspark which didn’t come from the Allspark was hard and time-consuming. And, well, the only person he had briefly thought of as a potential mate wasn’t here anymore…

Mentoring the Twins was as close as getting his own creations he thought he would ever have. Which, at seeing their antics, he supposed was enough. It still amazed him he hadn’t snapped and killed them yet, because really, sometimes they were just more frustrating than, say, Optimus. No, scratch that; Optimus was way more infuriating and detestable. The Twins were just a painful handful, who took shots at his dignity.

However, they laughed and hugged him and were always contrite when he lectured them about what they had done wrong. They hide little gifts in his quarters (how in the Pit did they manage to hack the lock, anyway?), and… slept in his berth and snuggled with him when they had a bad memory purge in the middle of a night cycle (and he hoped nobody else would learn about that; Jazz and the Magnus and Perceptor and Red Alert and Wheeljack already knew, and it was already too much people!).

They weren’t bad, per say. But there was something about the two of them that bothered him very much.

Something tugged at his hand, and Sentinel lowered his gaze to glance at Jetstorm’s visor. The blue twin was nibbling at his lower lips. Behind him, Jetfire was twiddling his fingers worriedly. Oh, Sentinel already guessed where it was going…

“Mr. Sentinel Prime, Sir? We hungry…” Jetstorm trailed off, cheeks coloring slightly. Sentinel sighed in exasperation.

“Of course you are. You always are.”

His tone was a bit harsher than he intended, and the Twins flinched a bit away from him. “We…” started one. “… Sorry…” the other continued. “… Mr. Sentinel Prime Sir,” they finished together, sad, optics bright.

Oh, by the Allspark, not those looks! There was only so much pleading ‘Mr. Sentinel Prime Sir’, hopeful smiles or kicked turbopuppy looks he could take before grudgingly caving in.

Which he did once more.

“Alright, alright,” he roused. “In my quarters,” he ordered them swiftly, and the Twins jumped in excitement before breaking into a run toward his private sanctuary. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

Sentinel sighed and huffed as he watched them go. Why couldn’t they just drink real energon from cubes, like real mechs? He hated having to breastfeed them! It was so, so… gross!

But, unfortunately, Perceptor and Red Alert and the Magnus had insisted he does. Something about the change of frames being still too recent to allow the two of them on a regular energon and oil diet. Something also about the more nutritive quality of self-processed energon. Something about forming strong bonds with their mentors and assure themselves the Twins would firmly stay on the Autobot path and wouldn’t turn traitor. And something about Sentinel being the only one qualified enough to feed the both of them until further notice.

Sentinel believed some of that, and doubted very much about the rest. He wasn’t a medic, so he couldn’t pretend the ‘nutritive’ argument was wrong, and countless new creators argued about it. The ‘avoid them turning traitors’, he had half a mind to snort at it, but then again, he wasn’t an expert with coding. However, he really balked about ‘being the only one who could do it’.

Sure, energon pouches for breastfeeding newsparks and sparklings weren’t as common as before in ‘bots entering military structures than they were in civilians or medical frames. Sentinel only had them because his well-meaning but overbearing and short-sighted creators had hoped he would find himself a job in a civilian office, find a nice bondmate and raise a brood of sparklings, so they had updated his adult frame with the pouches, and Sentinel had never taken the time to have them removed.

That Perceptor, very involved in the creation of the Twins, didn’t have feeding lines, he could accept; it was very much in character for him. That Wheeljack didn’t have any, he wasn’t so sure, but since the scientist was spending all his time in dangerous experiment, he was willing to give him some leeway. And one couldn’t decently ask the Magnus to breastfeed two of his underlings.

For Red Alert and Jazz, however, he didn’t find any excuses. So what if the medic spend her time patching up some Space Bridge surveillance team? She could always request a transfer! And Jazz, with his cocky smile… How the hell had he escaped getting drafted into the ‘feeding the twins’ duty? And well, even if the Twins were a secret project, they could have hired a professional nurse bot for them, couldn’t they?

Somehow, it reeked of some nefarious plan to Sentinel. A nefarious plan he hadn’t managed to unearth yet, but he would.

But for now, he was an over glorified nurse bot. Which he didn’t like. At all. Even if the Twins seemed to adore him even more for that. And even if they clamored hard and long he was their favorite mech and superior officer ever. And if they stroked his ego in the best way possible. Nope, he didn’t like breastfeeding them.

He just… didn’t have a choice, that’s all. Right.

Huffing, Sentinel punched the code to open his door. The metal panel slide asides, revealing the two young ‘bots sitting on his berth, looking hopeful and delighted and almost starved. It was almost cute. It made him feel good, to be so loved and waited upon… even if it only was because of a mod he had never took off. Sentinel raised his optics to the ceiling, sighed in exasperation, and went to join them on the berth.

The sooner it was over, the better he would feel.

_-_-_

“He’s feeding them again?” Wheeljack asked to Jazz, who was watching a security monitor giving a discreet view of Sentinel’s quarters, and a good view of the three mechs sitting on the berth. The twins, hands intertwined and arms passed around Sentinel’s waist, were pressing their face against the bigger mech’s chest, mouths working hard over the small nubs towering over Sentinel’s full pouches. Sentinel’s face seemed frozen in a mix of shock, disgust, contentment, fondness and reluctant pleasure.

The cyberninja nodded, smiling. “Yep, he does. Right on schedule,” he chuckled. “Those kids are always hungry, I swear. Even with the two cubes a day Percy and Red allow them to take.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Flying tends to consume more energy than we thought, I guess. It’s fine they have a complement with Sentinel. But… don’t you think we ought to tell him it’s no longer necessary for him to breastfeed them so often? Or at all?”

Jazz smirked. “Nope, we won’t tell him. Hear me out,” he added as Wheeljack tried to speak again. “Sentinel isn’t a bad ‘bot, he really isn’t, but he needs to unwind a bit. Breastfeeding the Twins helps. It really does. He doesn’t cuss as much he did about gross organics inherited parts, you noticed? And he’s starting to get sociable. Not, like, nice, but sociable enough he doesn’t think everybot not a Prime or an Elite member is beneath him. I’ve hope for him, and the Magnus does too. Why do you think we insisted Sentinel be the one to nurse them?”

“It certainly helped him getting some humility,” Wheeljack acknowledged. “Though I think he’s going to have a fit when he learns we lied to him.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt he will,” Jazz agreed. “But I kinda hope that, by the time he does, he will have taken so much to breastfeeding them that his tantrum will be kept at a minimal level.”


End file.
